Subreality Cafe: of writers & fictives
by Joy
Summary: Interlude in the Morganna series. Morganna wants to quit her series. Her author doesn't agree


**_Subreality Café: Of Writers and Fictives_**

**by Joy**** (Joy_witch@hotmail.com)**

**The Fictive:**

It was a slow night at the Subreality Café. Which was to say that they'd only had two brawls, one death and five of the windows broken. That only three of the afor mentioned windows had been broken by some one being thrown THROUGH them, proved just how uneventful that night was.

Was being the operative word.

When the harried looking fic stalked inside, looking very much like she wanted to either A) hit some one. Hard. Or B) Get very very drunk, very very fast, no one so much as batted an eyelid.

After surviving the CBFFA (or not surviving as the case may be) they thought they'd seen very nearly everything.

The Bartender watched as she approached the bar and sighed inwardly at the thought of having to listen to yet another fic rant. She/he wondered how bad it would be this time. ~Doesn't look like she's just been killed off~ He/she pondered, polishing a glass absently. ~Or brought back from the dead - Thank Kielle!~ She/he thought gratefully. It might be a marvel tradition and all that but it just gave him/her a head ache. ~She's not a version of Mary Sue~ she/he decided. 

The 18 year old's only claim to the uncommon was an amulet of twisted silver that was giving off magic like crazy. 

Her redish brown eyes were just another shade of brown. Her hair was a very brown shade of chestnut while her height and build were downright unremarkable.

Anywhere else she would have blended right in. At the Subreality Café she stood out like a crappy page would on C-FAN.

Crossing the room, she passed a table of furry blue women of various ages, comparing notes on different writers, another table where a trio of girls with dark blue hair streaked with white were discussing exactly how they'd like to kill their Writer and a small flock of Lockheed's perched up in the rafters. She couldn't hear what they were talking about but she guessed it involved a certain Englishman and what they'd like to do to him with a pack of cigarettes.

Near the back, a version of Generation X were throwing darts at a copy of Generation X #33 that was stuck to the dart board. The language they used while throwing caused even a few Gambit's to prick up their ears and take notes.

She barely glanced at the Angelo with a wedding ring who sat at the bar nursing a drink and a silly smile. She sat further down, near a grim looking Jubilee and looked directly at the Bartender. "Give me something that would knock Sabretooth out for a week," she said flatly.

The Bartender looked at her carefully, then with an almost imperceptible nod, started rummaging around under the bar. She/he remembered seeing a bottle of "pure Subreality" down there, left over from only the Scribe knew when.

While she waited the Fic clenched her hands together tightly, narrowed her eyes dangerously and announced. "I am going to kill my writer."

"JOIN THE CLUB!" 

She ignored the response from the crowd with the grace of one single-mindedly planning a murder. "I'd rather be unfinished than have her finish what _she_ has planned."

Silence fell so heavily in the café that several Lockheed's fell from the rafters at the sudden weight. "You can't Mean that can you?" The bartender asked shakily after several long moments passed.

She pinned him with a level stare. "Watch me."

Horrified looks and whimpers filled the room. "Tell her to stop, she's scaring me," some of the fics were heard to sob. The Jubilee next to her regained her voice, though her eyes were still shaken.

"Which writer..?" she asked, privately convinced it was either Bones or Laersyn. 

"She-" The girl began.

Every one looked over at the three girls with blue hair accusingly. The trio looked back blankly. The girl at the bar had nothing to do with their writer.

"is"

* * *

**The Writer:**

Joy looked at the map in front of her then back up at the landscape. The problem with subreality was that it never REALLY kept still. ~And what THE HELL is that pink bunny doing wandering about?~ As a writer it should have been easy for her to find the fic she was looking for, but she was still a bit new to FanFic.

"None of the others have ever tried to make a break for it," she muttered to the brown and white owl perched on her shoulder. The pair were sitting under an obliging streetlamp she'd written into the scenery as soon as it got dark. The light illuminated the map and the large C-FAN logo on her shirt. The words said "I'm with C-FAN".

"She's your first fanfic - fic's don't HAVE to do as you say," the owl replied, examining the map herself.

"Tera was the first - SHE'D never dream of running off like that," she shot back irritably. She'd lost track of her fic over in Delusion and had been lucky enough to have spotted the Fictive tributary before she got lost out there. Following it she passed several buildings but had yet to reach the infamous Subreality Café where she was sure her fic was hidden.

"Tera wasn't a fanfic," the owl disagreed, digging her talons in a little. Joy winced. "She was a character from one of your real' stories that you crossed over with X-man post A.O.A."

"What ever," the Writer blatantly ignored the bird's point and refolded the map.

"You still haven't finished it either."

"Shhh!" the girl looked around nervously. In Subreality a phrase like that could get you in deep trouble. Usually involving at least one shotgun, a mob and several missing organs. "I thought I told you I've got a lot of stories to do already."

"Uhuh." The owl gave her a very human look of disbelief. "That's why you went and joined that Pern Fanzine."

Joy glared at her. "I have my reasons."

"AND you've started that highlander/vampire cross-over over email-"

"That has NOTHING to do with-", the glare was turned up several notches. 

"Not to mention that Swan thing you started," the owl continued dissaprovingly.

"I get enough of that from RoseMary and Serene and Eve," the writer said. "YOU are meant to be HELPING."

"I am."

Joy started heading for the nearest building. "If that's HELPING, I'd really hate to see you when you're out to get me."

Several biting comments later found the pair studying what appeared to be the Café. The father of all bouncers stood out front bathed in the neon glow of several signs. The roof looked a bit rickety, as though it had been picked up and put back down several times and at least five of the windows were shattered. 

"The Subreality Café," Joy said and lowered her night vision goggles. The Writer knew well of their reputation and would have preferred that it was writers night. "She HAS to be in there. It's the only place around that even has a chance of keeping Writers out." ~Of course the same could be said for the Villains Bailiwick but before going there she'd make the preparations necessary to kill as many Sinisters as she could. She hasn't had long enough to do that. ~

"A chance?," the owl repeated. "Joy that place throws out writers like they're last decades top ten hits!"

"Exactly," she replied. "If they get thrown OUT that must mean they get IN somehow."

The owl flicked her wings acknowledging the point. "You'd better have a way to get past the bouncer. He's already seen all the usual and unusual tricks."

"And you know that because?"

"You're not the only one who reads fanfic."

"Oh. Well." She raised the goggles again and studied the place next to her target as she thought. ~The Anime Café eh?~ she looked it over. ~Must be a pretty slow night. Their bouncer's actually asleep. Pity he's not~ Her eyes widened behind the goggles at the idea that hit her and she hurriedly stuffed them back into her old high school pencil case. Even now it sometimes amazed her at it's bizarre contents. 

Reaching back into the pencil case she pulled out a laptop computer. Flipping it open, she switched it on and quickly tracked down information on the Anime Café. "Uhuh, yep, I was right." She muttered.

"What?" the owl demanded crossly. Not only had her feathers been ruffled by the force of Joy's idea when it hit but she didn't know what that idea was.

The writer looked at her feathered companion and grinned the feminine version of a Han Solo grin when he has all the right cards. "I have a cunning plan."

* * *

**The Bouncer:**

The Subreality Café's bouncer folded his massive arms across his barrel like chest and leaned against the entrance. It was a slow night and if he'd been at a normal establishment it might have meant a chance to relax. But even on its quietest days the S.C. had hordes of readers to keep out, scores of writers to foil and several ill mannered fics to throw out. 

So it was with his usual suspicion that he watched the Writer approach. He'd once told a Writer that he could tell them by their general flakyness. Which was true but there were also other signs. Most Writers looked very ordinary - as opposed to their fics. The ones who usually tried to sneak in were well known enough that he knew them on sight and what to expect. Not that it ever HELPED him. The fact was that if a Writer ever really wanted to get in, there wasn't much he could do about it. Sure they'd get yelled at later by the other Writers but that didn't help HIM. Luckily Writers seemed to see getting past him as a point of honour: it had to be done using their wits.

~Which gives me the advantage~

If this one was trying to sneak in she was doing a very bad job at it. The shirt saying "Write or do not write, there is no try," was a dead give away. The note book and pen didn't help matters either.

Ignoring his presence completely she peered inside just in time to hear the silence hit. The bouncer kept his balance with the ease of long practice while she held onto the door frame.

"Slow night huh?" she asked in a friendly voice.

"It's not Writer's night," he pointed out looking down at her. Really down, he noticed. He was about 7 feet tall, she wasn't much more that 5"2'.

She nodded amiably. "I know."

He watched her suspicously. Any moment now he just knew she was going to attack him and/or make a dash for it. Writers had tried it before and for some it had worked but not any more. 

"I know it's a slow night," she confided, "because the place is still standing. There isn't even a wall missing."

He couldn't help himself and grinned at the accuracy of the half serious words.

"Much better," she smiled. It was an unusual smile coming from a Writer as it was neither evil nor suspiciously innocent. 

"Don't you want to go in?" he asked slightly confused.

"Goddess no!" she told him, looking faintly horrified. "This place is full of fics. They have a thing about Un-"

"Don't say it," he warned quickly.

She grinned sheepishly and shrugged. "Any way," she went on. "I wanted to ask you some questions - get to know you a bit."

"Why?" There wasn't much she could do with the information to sneak in.

"You've turned up in a story I'm writing and I want to get your character right."

"Me?" now he sounded dumbfounded.

"Yes you." She told him and opened the notebook, readying the pen. 

"I'm in a story?"

"Yes."

"Why do want my character right?" he asked. "I'm only ever a bit player. Writers sneak past me, I talk to the ambiguous 3 in order to help the plot and every now and again I either get to kill someone or throw them out."

"Sounds like a lot of work to me," she replied. "Besides, you're very important to this story - you get quite a few lines and I don't want you sounding wrong."

"Oh."

"Now are we going to do this or what?" Her patience was obviously wearing thin and for the first time she sounded like the type of Writer he was used to. "I've even left you nameless." 

"OK." He hastily agreed.

"So have you all recovered from the C.B.F.F.A. ?"

"I don't remember you being here," he commented, relaxing just a little.

"Oh no I wasn't," she said. "I read it later," her eyes lit up as she spoke. "It sounded like A LOT of fun. I would've loved to have been here for it."

"Shadow made an appearance," he reminded her and shuddered at the memory.

She made a few notes on the pad. "You have a point, but with all those Good Writers here, he never had a chance. And you all got to form a lynch mob and go after him. Sounds like a fun way to pass the time." She grinned just a little and he had to agree with her, although.

"We never did get his head on the wall."

"When I get the chance I'll send Jynx and Nemisis after him," She offered.

He couldn't help but grin at the thought. The little known pair hunted Fanboys. They had yet to visit the Café and he wondered how THAT event would go.

"Mary Sue was deputy bouncer that night wasn't she?" she asked. "Must've been nice to have some help."

"It was still chaos," he grumbled. 

She noticed the grimace he tried to hide and went in for the kill. "I heard something about you. Well, I didn't want to mention anything - but weren't you painted blue?"

She pretended not to notice him wincing at the words. "You must be the busiest bouncer in Subreality," she said in an aside as she wrote something else down. He couldn't tell what it was since she was using the script known as "messy as hell handwriting". 

He looked over at the resting bouncer for the Anime Café. "Some guys get all the luck," he grumbled.

"Why don't you work there then?"

"Looks like they barely even need the bouncer they have," he replied.

"But you're so much better qualified," she pointed out.

He looked like he was weakening. 

"It's a branch of this Café," she mentioned. "You could at least check it out."

The large man wavered for a moment before taking up on her suggestion. 

"Thanks for your time!" she called after him. The moment he went out of sight she ducked into the Café. Following the plan they'd made beforehand, the Owl flew down to a lower branch to keep watch.

* * *

**The Threats:**

"Here!" Joy declared, finishing her recalcitrant fic's sentence.

Those within the Café turned to face the Writer. They expected to see consuming darkness, writhing tentacles or blood stained flesh clothed in whitened bones. They expected to be able to taste the despair and hear the sounds of unlucky fics and/or sharpening knives. (Laersyn was the one with the chainsaw)

The Writer before them looked younger than her 19 years and she was short and slightly built. Her short hair was brown and her wide open eyes were a mixture of blue/grey/green. Her shirt had the words "Born to write" on it. In one hand she clutched a pad and pen, in the other she held a battered pencil case covered with scrawlings.

"Why is it that Writers always look so ordinary?" A miscellaneous fic commented into the silence that met the writer's entrance.

"To lull us into a false sense of security?" Another fic suggested.

"What are you doing here?" The fictive at the bar demanded angrily.

"You are coming with me," her Writer told her.

"No way!" the fic said forcefully. 

The Writer leveled a VERY flat stare in her direction. "Don't make me hurt you."

"Is that how you got past the bouncer?" spat the fic. 

"Actually no," her Writer admitted. "I used a trick I picked up from your pal Shakespeare'." She went back to the topic at hand. "Now are you coming or do I have to get nasty?"

"What part of NO don't you understand?"

The young Writer took a few menacing steps toward her creation. "What part of Don't make me hurt you, do YOU not understand?"

"You mean hurt me as opposed to what you're doing in "And Nothing Stands"?" Came the sarcastic reply.

"YOU ran out in between stories. I need you to finish it Morganna," she shot back.

"I don't WANT to finish it!" The duly named Morganna shouted. "You're planning to-"

"Don't even think of finishing that sentence," she was warned in a no nonsense voice that could only come from a Writer. "There will be NO spoilers remember?"

"Why not?" Morganna demanded. 

"I'll make you a Summers," she threatened.

"You wouldn't."

"Watch me."

Morganna began to feel queasy at the thought and hastily tried to talk her out of it. "But you already made Jynx a Summers. She might be one of the Agents of Death who go around killing Fanboys but she IS a Summers and you hate doing something twice." She babbled but didn't care. Anything that kept her out of the Summers clan was acceptable.

The Writer pondered long enough to make her creation squirm before admitting defeat on that threat. "Point."

Morganna grinned in relief and spoke to their audience. "She won't even let me say the word Vampire-"

"MORGANNA!" The Writer borrowed the use of Apocalypse's Caps and put them to good- if deafening use. Her shirt changed to "My writing is my life" 

At the shout, the roof creaked ominously and several more fics were dislodged from the rafters. Not to mention all the ill-anchored fics who got blown into walls. It was later discovered the words' sheer volume was the reason a planet on the other side of the galaxy suffered a week of earth quakes several millennia later. The force of it also shifted the course of a meteorite that was twice the size of the moon and headed straight for earth. 

Which was a good thing I guess.

"WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU CONCERNING THAT WORD?!"

Morganna cringed at the blast of sound. At least all the windows had already been shattered the first time, she tried to reassure herself. ~I thought Abyss was the only Writer crazy enough to borrow poccy's Caps~ 

"I'M WAITING" The diminutive Writer with the CapsLock on tapped her foot impatiently.

"Alright, alright, I wont say it again." 

"MUCH BETTER. NOWWHY IS EVERYONE CRINGING?"

"I'M WHAT?"

"THE CAPSLOCK? OH WHOOPS, I'D BETTER TURN IT off."

"Now, as I was saying," she began as noise other than her words could be heard. She watched absently as various fics pulled themselves to their feet or out of the walls. Thankfully the bloodstains on the stage were from the incident' involving Gossamer rose at the C.B.F.F.A. and not something more recent. The windows had luckily shattered outwards which had no doubt reduced the number of casualties.

"You-know-who is going to be mighty pissed at you using His Caps," her recovering fic advised her.

"He tries anything I'll write him as a FanBoy and sic' Jynx and Nemisis on him." The Writer straightened her shirt before going back to what she was originally trying to say. It now read 

"Write, Be Free!"

"So are you going to work with me Morganna?" The Writer asked bluntly. She felt slightly high, it was either lack of sleep or the power of the mighty CAPSLOCK going to her head.

Morganna considered. Working for her Writer had been fun at first but with part three she wanted nothing to do with it. Part four sounded suitably vague and impressive but to get to it she had to go through "And Nothing Stands."

"I'd rather be Unfinished."

~-GASP-~

"You really mean that?" The Writer double checked.

"There's nothing you can do to change my mind." 

"Shouldn't have said THAT," a fic said.

"Yep. Now That Writer's going to do something unspeakably EVIL to her." Another confirmed. There were general all round nods of agreement from those who were still conscious and a few of those who weren't but it didn't really matter to them.

The Writer nodded in an understanding manner then stuffed the notebook and pen into the pencil case and pulled out the laptop instead. Her Shirt now said :

" "Surrender yourself to the dark side." 

"I don't have time for that! I have to write!" "

"How the Hell?" someone muttered before giving it up as a Writer's thing.

Morganna watched her Writer uneasily as she settled it on the bar and switched it on. Any fics who were still nearby edged away from the intimidating glare of the screen.

"What?" she asked, edging close enough so she'd be able to read over her shoulder. 

"Since you don't want to do "And Nothing Stands" I've decided to write you in something else." The pleasant voiced Writer told her fictive without looking at her.

"Really?" Morganna dared hopefully.

"It's a bit of a cross over too," the teen at the laptop told her.

"I think I can handle anything short of South Park after dealing with Va-"

"Don't force me to use the CAPSLOCK," the Writer warned, her finger hovering above the key.

"Save us Lady Scribe!," several of the audience prayed.

Morganna snapped her mouth shut and mumbled an apology along with something that sounded suspiciously like a long list of insults she'd picked up from the Generation X who'd been throwing darts before.

Her Writer pretended to ignore the latter but secretly jotted down a few of the more interesting phrases for later use. Morganna who couldn't see very well from where she was cowering thought she was just typing her new story.

"So what's it a cross over with?" The fic asked after a painful moment of quiet.

"It's a pretty infamous Marvel fanfic," she was told in that pleasant voice that was REALLY starting to make her nervous.

"You mean Famous," Morganna corrected.

"What ever you want to believe," she patted her hand consolingly then went back to typing. 

"Which fanfic is it?" the fic demanded, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.

"I believe it's called X by Andrew Vincent." Her smirk was Evil straight from the spring.

"WHAT!!!!!!???????"

The other patrons of the Subreality Café could only stare. Morganna was right, her Writer was evil. 

"And since you were whining the other day about not getting enough romance-" Morganna looked at her Writer with a horror that was usually reserved for Laersyn on a bad day. "I'm getting you involved with Shadow."

"NNNOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!" Her scream covered the sounds of nearly every fic losing their lunch at once.

"Did I mention it'll be my first venture into Erotica?" 

Morganna collapsed into a puddle of despairing Fictive without even the strength to beat the floorboards. Groups of fictives huddled in corners. Several sobbed. The group of Wolverine's and Sabretooth's hiding under the stage were especially noisy.

The Writer left the laptop and cheerily knelt by the remains of her creation. "And because I want it to mesh with the original I'll even strain my creativity to make it just like his."

Morganna flinched and curled up into a ball. ~I wish I was dead. I wish I was dead. I wish I was dead.~ She chanted inwardly.

"Yes Morganna. I will write you BADLY."

The Writer grinned then straightened. Her t-shirt now read "I am Writer, hear me type." She decided to let her fic settle a moment before telling her it was a threat and not an actual plan. 

Looking around the Café she noticed for the first time just how much damage the place had taken. The walls were decorated with several fic sized imprints, all the glass had shattered, the windows were broken, the roof was staying up by wishful thinking only, no furniture remained standing, the floor was coated with half digested lunches and what fic's weren't out cold were huddled in corners or hidden out of sight.

~Sigh~

She tucked the laptop back into the pencil case where it technically shouldn't have fit and went in search of her paper and pen. The Bartender, who'd ducked behind the bar when that first Caps had hit the roof, rose cautiously. She/he saw the Writer sorting through a battered pencil case. Already on the bar were a pair of nightvision goggles, a thick novel (The fifth sacred thing by StarHawk), several silver hilted knives, a mobile phone, a Katana, a crossbow, three wooden stakes, a silver pentacle, a calculator, a suncatcher, a black witches hat, a 6 piece set of silver cutlery, a stack of disks, several scraps of paper covered with writing, a handful of dead pens and what looked like a bottle of blood.

"A lot of my characters are-" she cut short her explanation behind the last item. "Well when they get thirsty I'm not about to donate any of my blood."

The Bartender nodded understandingly. Whether he/she understood or not had nothing to do with their policy of "don't piss off the Writers".

With a small cry of triumph she finally found the pen and mostly blank paper. The Writer untidily shoved everything except the book back into the pencil case. The novel she tucked into Morganna's arms the way you would a teddy bear. "As long as you go along with "And Nothing Stands," I won't go along with that threat. OK?"

Morganna nodded imperceptibly, hugging the book and her Writer went back to the bar, her shirt now reading "To write or not to Write? Who honestly thinks there's a choice involved?".

Using her native script of "Handwriting from Hell," she started writing. As she did the Café gradually shifted back to the way it had been when she'd first walked in. Of course, when the furniture moved it left many fics huddled with out shelter but she didn't let it bother her. She decided not to fix the roof further. The next Writer through would fix it up but until then she liked the way it looked. A monument to the first annual C.B.F.F.A. 

The Bartender nodded his/her thanks and put the bottle of pure subreality' back below the bar. 

The Writer was considering drinking something fairly alcoholic and that bottle she'd just seen vanish looked mighty tempting. She rarely drank at home, but since she rarely spoke in the Holy Caps at home either she didn't see why she should let that stop her.

"Time to leave Joy," called the Owl as she swooped through the door.

"She didn't just call That Writer what I think she did. Did she?" A recovering Fictive moaned.

"My name's Joy," the Writer said. Her shirt changed its message again. It now read : "All's Well that's Written well." She kept speaking. "Yes it's my real name and my assumed name and the name I wear when I pig out on chocolate. It's even my name when I USE CAPS," She smiled. A scary smile. "Any one have a problem with it?" Her voice was back to the pleasant one she'd used to torment her fic with. No one listening missed the hint and she was answered with a chorus of no's.

"Wonderful. Now Owl and I have to go," she said. "Well the name does suit her doesn't it?" she pointed out before going back to her original theme.

"Come on Morganna," she dragged the taller fic to her feet (or close to it) by pulling on her silver amulet.

"I thought you weren't going to kill me," she gasped out, book under one arm and desperately trying to unravel the cord now wrapped around her neck.

Her Writer ignored her. Which was probably just as well.

* * *

**Epilogue:**

When they were sure Joy and her fic were really gone, all sorts of hidden fics came into view. The Wolverines and Sabretooth's who crawled out from under the stage somehow managed to still appear deadly and dangerous. A Gambit and Joseph only managed to look chagrined when they reappeared from behind a potplant. The three Dawns crept out from behind the juke box last. They shivered.

"At least Tapestry never threatens to write us badly." 

* * *

Credits: (hold onto your hats boys and girls)

Sikudhani McCoy is from the X-S series and belongs to Darqstar (and others too numerous to mention)

The married Skin is from "Shades of Grey" and belongs to the Writer known as Me. And if you don't know WHY he was grinning, two words: Just Married.

The miscellaneous fic's belong to either themselves or their writers, depending on who has the gun. g

The grim Jubilee is from Seraph's "Letters from the end."

The Subreality Cafe belongs mostly to Kielle the Lady Scribe, Falstaff of the Arleccino Timeline and Tapestry of the Dawn Arc. The rest of it belongs to who ever can get their mitts on it. g

THE CAPSLOCK OF APOCALYPSE WAS INSPIRED BY ABYSS IN CHAINS. Very, Very funny:)

I hope the SC Bouncer enjoyed his important part, it's true he just wandered into this story. He was first thought of by Falstaff (I think).

The t-shirt slogans are all mine! But I'm willing to share if I'm asked politely:)

The Agents of Death: Jynx and Nemisis belong to [my brother Jareth][1] and [myself.][2]

Morganna from "Morganna" and "The Hills are Shadows" is [mine][3] until the Andrew Vincent threat wears off. (Frankly, I don't think that'll ever happen.;))

The references to Star Wars are exactly that.

The three Dawn's are Tapestry's and are from "Ties never binding", "Fading Embers" and "Circles".(I think - they never did give me their titles.)

The pink bunny if you didn't pick up on it is a reference to the C.B.F.F.A. round robin. So too is the bloodstained stage, the roof's condition (it got picked up at least twice!) and the Bouncer being painted blue. I loved it all!

The reference to flaky Writers is from Lori McDonald's "SC: Writer's block".:)

The Anime Cafe really does exist next door and the reason the bouncer was asleep was that since it's taking them a while to get writers interested, he doesn't have to keep a constant look out for them trying to sneak in. [Stormdance][4] looks after the Anime Cafe.

The map is from [Karolina's art page][5]

The Owl just followed me in. Honestly.

'Pure Subreality' is MINE but since I didn't get around to drinking any of it (Curses!) I guess it's up for grabs.:)

Laersyn and his chainsaw belong to the Lord of Darkness (himself) who isn't to be mistaken for the Lord of Chaos (AkA Bill Gates.)

Kielle the Lady Scribe belongs to herself (of course)

Bones belongs to Bones.

Mary Sue belongs to everyone.(yes even me:))

_QUOTE THAT DIDN'T MAKE IT ONTO MY SHIRT: _

_If you're going to do something. BE EXCESSIVE._

   [1]: mailto:%20Adamlocket@hotmail.com
   [2]: mailto:%20joy_witch@hotmail.com
   [3]: mailto:%20Joy_witch@hotmail.com
   [4]: mailto:%20mbaring@powernet.net
   [5]: http://www.contrib.andrew.cmu.edu/~kkp/



End file.
